


At Your Service

by greygerbil



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pining, five times fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-24 03:05:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Five times a very smitten Charles helped Haytham, and one time Haytham helped him.





	At Your Service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Apathy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apathy/gifts).



> Hi there! I liked your prompt about poor Charles pining, I hope I worked it into something you'll like with this treat.

“This is your room, Master Kenway. I hope it is to your liking.”

Charles was quite in awe of Haytham Kenway. The stories told of his deeds had always been impressive, but meeting the man in person was another matter altogether. He was handsome, yes, but more than that his perfect poise and quiet aura of authority made him easily rule any room he stepped into with his very presence. Every word he said was well-chosen and even his movements never seemed superfluous, each gesture placed to underline some point and every action undertaken with true purpose.

Through the open door, Master Kenway surveyed the room before he turned his eyes back on Charles. They were the greyish blue of polished steel, the gaze all focused attentiveness. It seemed to cut through Charles’ flesh and bones right into his soul.

“This should do fine.”

“If you have any other need of me, feel free to call on me, whatever the hour. My room is just down the hallway,” Charles added quickly.

A hint of a smile quirked the elegant arch of Haytham’s lips and Charles’ heart jumped in his ribcage.

“Thank you, Charles. I will remember it.”

-

Like many who travelled to a country far from home, the first thing Master Kenway did once he had settled in was fall ill. The strains of sicknesses in foreign places could be hard to handle for the body; it had happened to Charles, too, on occasion. Master Kenway bore his indisposition with his habitual grace and did not allow it to impact him in mind or matter. Even while his voice was a little rougher – not altogether an unpleasant effect – and he frequently had to turn his head to use his handkerchief, he still devised cunning plans and stood out as untouchable in battle. He also taught Charles a few fundamentals of his believes and techniques, which Charles was very glad for. It seemed like Master Kenway saw potential in him.

However, it did occur to Charles that with all this, Master Kenway set aside very little time to take care of himself. Recovery seemed unusually slow and while he was hardly stricken with a deadly illness, Charles would rather not he suffer any discomfort for longer than necessary.

Presenting him with camomile tea in the mornings and evenings was rather easy, as they lived in the same building and Charles had only just to claim that when ordering the drink, he would always be served a whole pot, which he couldn’t possibly drink all by himself before it went cold. Master Kenway seemed rather grateful to have these cups delivered to his doorstep, anyway, and did not question it further, even when Charles began to squeeze lemon juice into his tea, making it rather obviously not just an untreated leftover.

Next, Charles made sure that Master Kenway would be served chicken broth before his dinner and acquired some herbal lozenges, which he handed to him the next time he heard him struggling to get his throat cleared. Finally, he talked Benjamin Church into asking Master Kenway whether he would allow an examination. After all, Master Kenway stood for all intents and purposes as the leader of the Templars in the New World right now and surely his good health would be very important for all their further exploits.

He sat at the table with Master Kenway taking supper the evening after this conversation when Master Kenway touched his arm in a moment of comfortable silence.

“You really have a silver tongue. I doubt even I could have convinced Benjamin to give an examination for free,” he said, amusement bright in his voice.

“Oh – well, it was nothing,” Charles said, suddenly uncommonly warm all over even as the brief pressure of Master Kenway’s fingers let up. “I just figured you were too busy to take care of such things, so I took the liberty of arranging it. You could have sent him away if it was unnecessary, after all.”

“Well, I thank you for your attention these last days.”

Though it was a little embarrassing to know that Master Kenway had noticed his fussing – of course he had, very little escaped him –, Charles was much too happy for the compliment to care.

-

The inevitable end of his bliss came when, infiltrating Southgate Fort, they met a native woman who Master Kenway was convinced could help him with his mission, of which Charles only knew pieces. She was very beautiful, and, speaking of her, Master Kenway sounded impressed with her fortitude and even her stubbornness. Charles tried not to think too hard about it. Being little taken with women himself, it was no new experience for him to be enamoured with a man who would start preferring the companionship of a girl over that of Charles eventually. In fact, it had been a pattern. In comparison to his regard for Master Kenway, however, all these former heartbreaks seemed like silly school boy crushes. 

But Master Kenway was a man who turned many heads and could take his pick. It had been inevitable that eventually he would find someone to pay special attention to, and whether it would be this specific woman or another really mattered little in the end. He would not have his own behaviour influenced by it, Charles decided. He was here to become a Templar and to gain Master Kenway’s respect, not a spot in his bed – even if, at his core, he wanted it, and begrudged it anyone else.

Since getting what information the native woman might have was obviously important to Master Kenway, Charles did everything he could to find out about her whereabouts, streaking for weeks along the borders of the city, following up on every rumour whispered throughout the Frontier. Finally, after many wasted hours, he had managed to track her down. He sent for Master Kenway immediately, determined not to let her slip away once more.

He’d been waiting for him for an hour now, sunken to his calves into the thick blanket of snow. Winters got cold here with sharp winds driving snowflakes that felt like pinpricks on the skin. His fingers and toes were stiff and numb and he couldn’t feel his face anymore. He had just considered repositioning behind his horse to at least escape the worst of the draughts when he heard the muffled noise of hooves in the snow and saw Master Kenway approach. His cape billowed behind him. Some strands of dark hair had escaped the tight ponytail and flew about his face, which was a lively pink from the cold. The view would have excused quite a few hardships and Charles enjoyed every second of it.

-

Charles was fairly certain that Edward Braddock had only called him back because he didn’t want Master Kenway having something he didn’t, or otherwise because he had needed a convenient scapegoat for all his bad moods, one who had lost his right to complain about anything. Returning to his regiment was some type of hell, but Master Kenway had asked Charles if he would consider remaining as a man on the inside and of course Charles had agreed.

Being himself someone at times given to flights of temper, Charles had to make use of every ounce of self-control to stay meek and silent under Braddock’s treatment. If at least he could have gone to see Master Kenway more often than just once a week or even fortnight, he would have been content for it, but of course he needed to pretend to be contrite and loyal to Braddock. Thinking of all manner of insults regarding Master Kenway to please Braddock’s pride was not too difficult, at least; he simply considered Braddock and switched out the names before he let the words leave his tongue. So far, Braddock had not caught on. Charles was not surprised.

When the days turned warmer, Charles had managed to talk himself into Braddock’s good graces again. Master Kenway was going to kill Braddock during the expedition that would start in a couple of weeks. To get at him, he was going to ambush him alongside the native woman, who he described as clever and resourceful to Charles in some detail.

Though green leaves and blossoms were on every branch now, the world seemed rather bleak to Charles.

-

It was a quiet night as Charles followed Master Kenway through the streets of southern Boston, paying great attention to the way his footsteps fell on the ground and trying to muffle them as much as possible. Now that he was finally out of Braddock’s sphere, Master Kenway had been educating him, among other things, in a subtler approach to solving problems with the blade than open combat. They had already finished their stake-out on a potential Assassin location – which Charles now knew to be a huge problem, having been given insight into the secrets of the Templar Order –, but he still felt he needed more training. A soldier by nature, Charles was more comfortable brandishing his sword or a bayonet, but he enjoyed that Master Kenway thought him capable of learning other ways of fighting.

“I shall get to finding out about this Mr. Thatcher first thing in the morning, sir,” Charles said quietly as they passed across an empty plaza before a small wooden church. “I have a few contacts who might know more, but if not, I could-”

Master Kenway shook his head.

“You needn’t be so quick to take all my dirty work anymore, Charles, or always help me out. You already planned our approach tonight.” He patted him once on the shoulder. “You’re a full-fledged Templar now, too. I have my own ears and eyes around the city, so I would not always put such things on your shoulders. This was just to practice a little. I’ll take this one alone.”

Charles smiled because he figured that was the reaction one should have, hearing that one’s better was ready to let go off the reins. It meant Master Kenway trusted him, didn’t it? It was exactly what he’d wanted. And yet, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was simply tired of Charles or had only entertained him so far because he wanted to raise him up for the Order, not because of a special interest or even friendly affection of his own.

“Thank you, Master Kenway,” Charles just managed.

-

Master Kenway and Charles were the last to leave William’s townhouse at which they had met tonight. The air was stifling hot and Charles had been on his feet for a day and a night chasing a lead on a target, his last reserves of energy used up now to prevent himself from clocking Thomas over the head for his frequent impolite and unneeded commentary during their discussions. He wondered if perhaps he could ask Master Kenway to a drink at a tavern, but eventually decided he had not the heart right now to stomach the rejection with a smile, should it come.

With his mind so clouded by tiredness and his dark mood, Charles found himself paying very little attention to the road ahead. It was his own fault, then, when the edge of his boot slid into the deep furrow some cart wheel had left in the trampled ground and he fell gracelessly to the side, a bolt of pain shooting up his leg.

“Charles?”

He had barely realised that he was sitting in the dirt when Master Kenway was reaching down to him. Feeling heat rise to his cheeks, Charles looked to quickly scramble up.

“My apologies, I just-”

His sentence veered out into a hiss as his left foot refused the burden of carrying his weight, burning fiercely. Thankfully, Master Kenway caught him before he could sag back to the ground. Despite the pain, Charles had to admit the tight grip of his arm felt very pleasant around his chest.

“Careful there,” Master Kenway said. “What happened?”

“I must have twisted my ankle,” Charles muttered, a little embarrassed it was turning into such a production. He had sustained much more serious injuries in combat. “I’m sure I can walk on it again in a minute or two.”

“I’d rather you do no such thing, Charles. No need to aggravate an injury when no one is in pursuit. My house is not far, you should come with me.”

It was put like a suggestion, but the firm tone made it an order, and in truth, Master Kenway was right, of course.

“If you don’t mind, sir.”

“Not at all. Put your arm around my shoulders.”

Charles did and Master Kenway slid his arm down around his middle before grabbing Charles’ wrist with his other hand. Charles had barely to put his feet on the ground with how much of his weight Master Kenway shouldered, not even breaking a sweat as he hauled Charles down the street. Concentrating on the pain in his ankle seemed a wise decision to Charles so he would not get too lost in staring at him.

They arrived at his house and Master Kenway let go off his hand to pull the key out of his pocket. Once inside, he put Charles down on a chair at the sitting room table.

“Wait for me here,” he said before marching off.

Charles looked around him. Master Kenway had only recently rented this place, but even though only the bare necessities of furnishings had been added as of yet, it all looked to be of good make, the kind that could last a few decades, and was arranged quite tastefully. A few books were already standing on a shelf – Shakespeare, Milton, Platon in its original Greek, the sort of thing you’d expect to find at a true gentleman’s place. Before he could find a work he remembered well enough from school that he might start a conversation about it which would not leave him floundering, Master Kenway returned, carrying a wet cloth.

“Take off your boot, Charles.”

Biting his tongue, Charles tried not to let his pain show as he pulled off his shoe and sock. His ankle was red and already swelling. Master Kenway dragged a chair closer.

“Put your heel up on this.” When Charles had followed that command, too, he wrapped the cloth around his ankle. It was mercifully cold against the throbbing pain.

“Thank you. I really hate to be a bother, since it’s not serious.”

“Nonsense, Charles. You’re never a bother to me.” Master Kenway straightened. “Now, what else can we do to make you feel better?”

Charles looked up at him, but before he had thought of an answer, Master Kenway had leaned down and pressed his lips against Charles’, giving him a soft kiss.

After that, Charles could only stare. Master Kenway pulled back.

“My dear Charles, don’t look so surprised. I am neither blind, deaf, nor daft.” He put his hand on Charles’ shoulder, fixing him in place as his teasing smile grew shrewder. “Since you can’t walk, I assume you’ll stay the night?”

Charles didn’t think he had ever been so quick to agree to anything in his life.


End file.
